


Drabble Collection 07

by triste



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am never letting you put anything in my ass again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble Collection 07

**[Moriyama/Izuki, KiKuro, lovesick fools]**

It’s bad enough being expected to lead a team of fools to victory. It’s even worse when two of them are made more annoying than usual by the disease known as love sickness.

“How could fate be so cruel?” Moriyama groans, head in his hands. “Why do I have to suffer like this?”

“You look fine to me,” Kasamatsu tells him.

“I’m in the depths of despair!” Moriyama laments, clutching piteously at his chest. “My wounds may be invisible to the naked eye, but my soul is being torn apart by the whims of the gods! It’s the greatest pain I’ve ever felt!”

There’s no use in pointing out to Moriyama how melodramatic he’s being, or how irritating it is for him to end every sentence with an exclamation. As long as he can function properly on the court instead of delivering a soliloquy to the audience, Kasamatsu doesn’t care how much emotional hurt he’s experiencing.

“Just do me a favour, okay?” Kasamatsu sighs. “Turn some of that pain into power and help us win the match.”

“But how am I supposed to play *for* Izuki-kun if I’m going to be playing *against* him?” Moriyama raises his gaze pleadingly. “Do you understand my dilemma?”

“No,” Kasamatsu says flatly. “And to be honest, I don’t really care.”

Moriyama crumples in a heap on the floor, right arm outstretched as if reaching for salvation. “My heart, it bleeds!”

It’s not the only thing that’ll be bleeding if he continues acting out his own personal soap opera, so Kasamatsu turns to idiot number two to find out how he’s doing.

Kise has been suspiciously quiet ever since they entered the locker room, and as much as Kasamatsu would like to believe it’s because he’s getting himself focused, he knows it’s something far less noble.

It’s not unusual for Kise to be fiddling with his cell phone. He’s constantly texting people, and if he’s not doing that, then he’s wasting time that could otherwise be spent doing something constructive by messing about on the internet. Today, however, he’s flicking through a collection of photos, and Kasamatsu only has himself to blame by not heeding the warning sign that is Kise’s face (which wears an expression of blissful oblivion, while his mouth hangs slightly open in an appreciative leer). A fleeting glimpse is all Kasamatsu needs to recoil in horror when he sees what Kise is staring at, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to banish the image from his mind.

“What the hell have you been using your camera feature for?”

Kise smiles brightly. “To take pictures of Kurokocchi, of course.”

Kasamatsu is pretty sure Kuroko wouldn’t appreciate Kise sharing such graphic details of their sex life, but Kise isn’t exactly what anyone would consider normal. He’s also a shameless pervert, at least when it comes to the person he’s been fawning over since middle school, and he doesn’t mind who knows it.

While Kise is busy alternating between lecherousness and swooning and Moriyama is still drowning in angst, Hayakawa makes Kasamatsu’s life as captain of the basketball club even more difficult by punching the door of his locker and hollering “fuck yeah, rebounds!” 

Kasamatsu gives up on trying to motivate them and resorts to praying they’ll be able to get their acts together in time, and if they don’t... well, he’ll be able to wash his hands of them when he graduates in the spring.

~~

**[Kuroko/Momoi, White Day]**

Momoi can only assume it’s because she’s spent far so years with Aomine that Kuroko surprises her by being able to remember important dates. She’s used to people forgetting these things by now, or at least not bothering to place as much significance on them as she does, but Kuroko, as always, does exactly the opposite of what she expects.

“What would you like for White Day, Momoi-san?”

It takes her a few seconds to register what Kuroko has just said, and even then she has to make sure she’s heard him correctly. “You knew it was coming up?”

Kuroko nods. “March the fourteenth, right? One month after Valentine’s Day.”

Momoi waves her hands hastily. “It’s okay, Tetsu-kun, you don’t have to get me anything. Dai-chan never does, so please don’t think I’m trying to make a big deal out of this.”

“I don’t,” Kuroko says, smiling, “and I want to. What would you like?”

Momoi doesn’t have to think too hard about it, but she has at least has enough sense to stop herself from blurting out “your babies!” or something equally embarrassing. She’s reluctant to demand too much, but then again, she also doesn’t want to let such a rare and precious opportunity go to waste. It’d be bad to look greedy, and besides, she’d be happy with whatever Kuroko offers her, even if it’s as small as a winning popsicle stick. Simply being by Kuroko’s side is what makes her happy, and that doesn’t cost anything at all.

Then, in a moment of genius, Momoi figures out what the best present Kuroko could ever give would be.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like two things,” she says, nervous but finding the courage to look him in the eye. “One is for you to stop being so formal with me. I want you to just talk normally when we’re together. The second is for you to call me by name.”

“That’s it?” says Kuroko. “That’s really all you want?”

Momoi nods. “Is it a weird request?”

“It’s not strange,” Kuroko tells her, “but I’d feel kind of bad if I didn’t give you a gift you can actually keep.”

“I don’t need one. Honestly, I don’t care about expensive or flashy presents. Just this is enough for me.”

Kuroko’s smile makes Momoi want to melt into a puddle of bliss on the floor, but the real kicker comes when he says, “I understand,” and then, with a gentle expression on his face that Momoi has only ever seen on prince characters in shoujo manga, he adds, “Satsuki.”

Momoi’s lips move but no sound comes out, and her face is so hot she could start billowing steam from her ears. Her whole body feels weak, which is why she finds herself going limp like overcooked noodles, and the last thing that comes to mind before swooning into oblivion is that, wow, it really is possible to faint from sheer happiness.

~~

 **[Akashi/Midorima, problem solving]** Companion piece to [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/662947/chapters/1268221). <3

Shintarou knows it’s time to start worrying when he finds Seijuurou frowning down at his favourite shogi board like he’s just been grievously offended by it.

“This board no longer meets my requirements,” Seijuurou announces, paying no attention to Shintarou’s expression of concern. “Therefore I intend to burn it.”

“I beg your pardon?” says Shintarou

“The board,” Seijuurou repeats, impatient over having been asked to say the same thing twice. “It needs burning.”

Shintarou has heard all about mood pregnancy and mood swings both from Ryouta and his colleagues at work, but this is bordering on insanity, especially when he takes into consideration the fact that the board is an antique, one that, last time he checked, was worth a staggering amount of money.

“It’s not the board’s fault you can’t fit in front of it anymore.”

Seijuurou makes what Ryouta calls the scary psychopath eyes at him, letting Shintarou know (much too late) that stating the obvious is strictly forbidden, and that Seijuurou would prefer to lay the blame with an inanimate object than his own stomach.

Shrinking back in fear, Shintarou says hastily, “Forgive me. You’re absolutely right. This is a terrible board. We should invest in a replacement at once.”

Seijuurou nods, appeased, and Shintarou breathes a sigh of relief.

But Shintarou has never possessed Seijuurou’s ability of foresight, which is why he realises he should never have been naïve enough to assume his troubles would end with the buying of a new board. True to his word, Seijuurou hasn’t once allowed him to take on a more dominant role in bed. Shintarou wouldn’t ordinarily be bothered about it, since it is his fault that Seijuurou has been - well, knocked up, to put it bluntly - but even he has limits, and right now, it’s his current condition.

“I really don’t think this is going to work,” Shintarou says, a bit uncomfortable with the way Seijuurou is looming over him with the kind of concentration he only usually applies to his shogi matches.

“And I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

Shintarou, like the good husband he is, immediately shuts his mouth.

Seijuurou continues to look thoughtful, but he’s merely delaying the inevitable. He just won’t admit it. Instead, he orders, “Spread your legs wider.”

And Shintarou obeys, too fearful of incurring Seijuurou’s wrath to be embarrassed. He should probably point out that there’s a certain... obstacle preventing Seijuurou from reaching his goal, but he also doesn’t want to piss him off, so he decides not to say anything at all.

“It’ll be fine,” says Seijuurou, sounding far more confident than Shintarou feels. “There’s no problem I can’t solve.”

But he can’t do anything about the fact that he’s six months pregnant and that his belly is making it very difficult to insert his cock into Shintarou’s ass.

The minutes pass by, and Seijuurou is still no closer to finding a solution now than he was half an hour ago.

“Turn around,” he instructs. “Let’s try this with you on your hands and knees.”

“Yes, Seijuurou,” says Shintarou obediently.

He doubts there’ll be any sex tonight. It’s just a question of how much longer it’s going to take before Seijuurou finally gives up.

~~

**[Akashi/Aomine, inappropriate use of the Akashi family wealth]**

Akashi wouldn’t usually allow Aomine to use such foul language in his presence, but he forgives his vulgarity just this once. Besides, there’s a very good reason why Aomine is currently cursing the air black and blue, and it’s buzzing away in his backside.

“We really need to do something.”

Akashi also wouldn’t usually lower himself to stating the obvious, but Aomine is too distressed to play along with his mind games.

“You think I don’t know that?” Aomine grits his teeth, breathing in slowly, but his expression remains strained.

“I’ll call for a taxi.” But before Akashi can dial the number, Aomine grabs his wrist.

“There’s no fucking way I’m going to ER like this.”

It doesn’t change the fact that only someone with medical expertise will be able to deal with Aomine’s situation, and he’s well aware of it, but he’s much too prideful to explain what the problem is. Also, it would mean letting himself in for a world of humiliation. Still, he can’t stay this way forever, although it’s been almost an hour already since the incident.

“Eneloop batteries really are long-lasting,” Akashi comments.

Aomine glares witheringly. “I am never letting you put anything in my ass again,” he growls. “And that includes your cock.”

Akashi shrugs. “I suppose next time we should use a vibrating dildo with a flared base in order to avoid any future... accidents.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

But Akashi is too busy going through the numbers stored in his cell phone to pay attention to Aomine’s mutterings about what a sick, perverted, twisted, kinky sex toy loving bastard he is. It’s a terribly inappropriate use of his family’s wealth when he summons their private doctor, but it’s the only way to remove the object that’s causing Aomine so much grief. Red faced and scowling, he curses Akashi’s ancestors, his future descendants and Akashi himself while the doctor does his job.

Bowing afterwards, all he says is, “Please refrain from any further mishaps, young master. Your parents would be most displeased.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Akashi says blithely.

“You’d better keep your dick in your pants, while you’re at it.” Aomine hisses sharply as he attempts to move his hips from where he’s lying face down on the mattress. “Shit, when am I going to be able to walk properly?”

Walking is the least of his worries when the doctor advises him to take it easy for the next couple of days, which means no sex and no basketball.

“The fuck?” Aomine doesn’t really care about the former, but he’s seething about being denied the latter.

Seeing the doctor out over the sound of Aomine’s ranting and thanking him for his time, Akashi adds autoerotic asphyxiation to his list of things to try next time he invites Aomine over to his house.


End file.
